


Any Time, Kiddo

by Howlingdawn



Series: Whumptober 2020 [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Magical Exhaustion, Sensory Overload, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:55:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26881786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Howlingdawn/pseuds/Howlingdawn
Summary: “We got ‘em. Stand down.”Wanda let go with a gasp almost before Cap finished.Clint rapidly controlled his burst of concern.(Whumptober Day Seven - Support, Carrying)
Relationships: Clint Barton & Wanda Maximoff
Series: Whumptober 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949191
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Any Time, Kiddo

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Marvel fanfic I've written for myself in like... over a year. I missed my daughter so heckin much

Arrow nocked and bow drawn, Clint paced the long-abandoned castle’s chapel, sunlight and the sounds of battle streaming in through stained-glass windows shattered long ago. Wanda knelt at the center of his perimeter, eyes screwed shut, hand pressed to the stone floor to ground herself, tendrils of scarlet power weaving out from her fingers, crawling off to disappear into cracks in the ground, out the broken windows, beneath the heavy wooden doors barring the entrance.

_Come on, kid,_ he muttered silently. _Come on…_

Her eyes snapped open, glowing vibrant red. “East tower,” she rasped. “Top level.”

Clint pressed his fingers to his earpiece. “You get that, Stark?”

_“Got it.”_

Clint paced closer to Wanda, watching her shake with the effort of keeping the powerful telepath’s location pinned down. Through the windows and over the comms, the sounds of battle grew more intense as the others fought past the army to find and capture him – a task made more difficult by the slight complication that his partner-in-crime could turn both men invisible. And all Clint could do was stay put and wait, hoping they succeeded before Wanda passed out.

Or worse. He still wasn’t entirely sure what exactly could go wrong in telepath battles.

_“We got ‘em. Stand down.”_

Wanda let go with a gasp almost before Cap finished, all scarlet disappearing in a puff of light. She doubled over, barely catching herself even with one hand already on the ground. Clint rapidly controlled his burst of concern, remembering what she had told him about strong emotions grating on her nerves like fire when she was this exhausted, and forced himself to kneel slowly, setting his bow down as quietly as possible.

Slumping against an old pile of broken stones, she lifted fumbling fingers to take out her own earpiece, dropping it more than setting it down before pressing her hand to her temple. Clint waited, swallowing down the urge to rush her, and when she finally lifted her head just enough to see him, he signed, “You good to talk? And touch?”

She nodded once, very carefully, and still winced.

“Ok,” he said, still keeping his voice low. “Let’s get you back to the quinjet.”

He took her hand, wrapping his other arm around her waist to pull her up. She stumbled, a little cry of pain escaping her at the movement, and he froze, bracing her against him. “Wanda?”

“I’m fine,” she whispered. “I’m fine.”

She wasn’t fine. Sweat dripped down her forehead, her entire body now trembling, and even with him currently bearing more than his fair share of her weight, she was struggling to stay on her feet. It wasn’t the first time he had helped her through magical exhaustion and sensory overload, but it was certainly the worst bout he’d ever seen.

“Sure you are,” he said, keeping a hold of her as he picked up her discarded earpiece and slung his bow over his shoulder. “I’ll carry you.”

“I don’t need-”

He raised his voice the slightest bit to rebuke, “Wanda.”

She flinched, clenching her eyes shut again. “Rude,” she grumbled.

Chuckling softly, he took that as permission to scoop her up, and she burrowed into him, burying her face in his shoulder. She relaxed almost immediately, her shoulders drooping, sighing faintly in relief. “Thanks,” she relented.

He began picking his way out of the chapel, treading carefully to avoid jostling her and making noise. “Any time, kiddo.”


End file.
